I am a fighter.
I have been such for as long as I can remember, but I have never been very good at it.
Despite that, I continue, because it is all that I have ever known.
I have done so for food.
I have done so for money.
I have done so for life.
I have done so for peace.

I am a fighter that doesn't only fight for myself.
I have jumped in to helped those who are outnumbered,
or those who aren't strong enough to fight for themselves.
I don't expect compensation, or even thanks.
What do I look like? A mercenary?
Everyone needs a little help at times, and I am more than happy to provide it.

I am a fighter that never wins.
What good is a fighter that never truly wins?
What good comes from fighting losing battles over and over?
Nothing.
Not a single thing.
What is gained from my uselessness?
Pain.
Remorse.
Regrets.
Resentment.
Helping others?
Please.
I can barely help myself, so what good am I to someone else.
And, even if I did help, they wouldn't be grateful, and may even turn on me.
So, the question now is: Why bother?
Why have I ever?
Oh!
That's right!
I thought that I was doing some good in the world by helping others.
I thought that if I fought enough that I would eventually achieve my goals.

How naive of me.